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Updated: May 8, 2025
Soon after breakfast Ivan Ivanitch and Yegorushka left the inn. "It's a nuisance," muttered his uncle. "You are sticking to me like a burr. You and your mother want education and gentlemanly breeding and I have nothing but worry with you both. . . ." When they crossed the yard, the waggons and the drivers were not there. They had all gone off to the quay early in the morning.
Then he turned his horse round and, looking through the papers in the book, moved at a walking pace alongside the waggons. When he reached the hindmost, Yegorushka strained his eyes to get a better look at him. Varlamov was an elderly man.
Is everything all right?" "First-rate, Ivan Ivanitch! "Haven't you seen Varlamov, lads?" "No, we haven't." Yegorushka woke up and opened his eyes. The chaise had stopped. On the right the train of waggons stretched for a long way ahead on the road, and men were moving to and fro near them.
After dinner everyone sauntered to the waggons and lay down in the shade. "Are we going to start soon, grandfather?" Yegorushka asked Panteley. "In God's good time we shall set off. There's no starting yet; it is too hot. . . . O Lord, Thy will be done. Holy Mother. . . Lie down, little lad." Soon there was a sound of snoring from under the waggons.
The face was pale and looked grave and exhausted, but there was no expression of spite in it. "Yera!" he said softly, "here, hit me!" Yegorushka looked at him in surprise. At that instant there was a flash of lightning. "It's all right, hit me," repeated Dymov. And without waiting for Yegorushka to hit him or to speak to him, he jumped down and said: "How dreary I am!"
At the time Yegorushka took it all for the genuine thing, and believed every word; later on it seemed to him strange that a man who in his day had travelled all over Russia and seen and known so much, whose wife and children had been burnt to death, so failed to appreciate the wealth of his life that whenever he was sitting by the camp fire he was either silent or talked of what had never been.
"No; he ought to have something hot. . . . Yegory, have a little drop of soup? Eh?" "I . . . don't want any," said Yegorushka. "Are you feeling chilly?" "I was chilly before, but now . . . now I am hot. And I ache all over. . . ." Ivan Ivanitch went up to the sofa, touched Yegorushka on the head, cleared his throat with a perplexed air, and went back to the table.
The flashes of lightning had at first been only terrible, but with such thunder they seemed sinister and menacing. Their magic light pierced through closed eyelids and sent a chill all over the body. What could he do not to see them? Yegorushka made up his mind to turn over on his face.
He drank laughing, often turning from the pail to tell Kiruha something funny, then he turned round, and uttered aloud, to be heard all over the steppe, five very bad words. Yegorushka did not understand the meaning of such words, but he knew very well they were bad words. He knew the repulsion his friends and relations silently felt for such words.
Yegorushka made up his mind to shut his eyes tight, to pay no attention to it, and to wait till it was all over. The rain was for some reason long in coming. Yegorushka peeped out from the mat in the hope that perhaps the storm-cloud was passing over. It was fearfully dark.
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